


Some People Pray for World Peace

by faege



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-26
Updated: 2010-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:39:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faege/pseuds/faege
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I want a world of pieces put back together and patched holes, darned socks and resoled shoes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some People Pray for World Peace

**Author's Note:**

> Sam's post-apocalypse thoughts.
> 
> Podfic read by elsewhere_kels [here](http://audiofic.jinjurly.com/some-people-pray-for-world-peace).

I want a world of pieces put back together and patched holes, darned socks and resoled shoes. I want ugly coffee mugs and cheap souvenirs and ratty teddy bears. On the second-hand fridge I want pictures where no one looks their best but their crazy faces look like _them_. I want weeds in the garden, patchy grass, faded paint, old concrete sidewalks. I want to hear creaky steps in the morning. At night, I want to hear crickets or rain or the silence of snow. I want mud tracked in and jackets slung over mismatched chairs, and a TV with weird colors and only the odd channels.

I used to want a pristine house, everything in its place. Boots in the mudroom, clothes in the hamper. I dreamt of a geranium-bordered lawn, china plates for special occasions, Oxford shirts and matching socks. Everything smelled fresh all the time. One day the kitchen would have stainless steel appliances and the walls would have new paint.

I thought I belonged in that picture-perfect place. I had it within my grasp. I might have even been happy there, once. Content, at least.

But I couldn’t fit there now. Maybe I never could and I just didn’t know it. I was raised with chipped bowls and hand-me-downs. I chalked sidewalks and then marked up wrinkled maps when I was old enough. I don’t like eating off china. It’s not really my thing.

I want a world full of lost and founds, the misplaced and the recycled. I want _taped up_ and _glued together_ and _tied tight_. I want the well-loved, the hard-loved, the sort of things that are loved because you don’t see what they are because you see what they mean. I want a world full of broken things that keep going long after they should have stopped.

So then, I can fit in.

 _Sam, get in the car, wouldja? What kind did you get me? Cherry? Man, I knew I kept you around for something. Here, hold on to it until I pull out of here and— **keep your grabby hands away from that fork**._

Thanks, God. Amen.  



End file.
